


Winter Spice and Memories

by avianscribe



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Baking, Bittersweet, Gen, Holidays, Remembering lost loved ones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21983050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avianscribe/pseuds/avianscribe
Summary: Right before Winter Solstice and Shivatide, Cor calls Gladio back from a daemon hunt because Iris is up to something... and it's up to Gladio to figure out how to help.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Iris Amicitia
Comments: 22
Kudos: 31
Collections: 2019 Holiday Exchange





	Winter Spice and Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InkTail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkTail/gifts).



> Happy holidays! :>

The message from Cor was baffling and a little ominous. 

_ Gladio, come get your sister; she’s a menace. _

What could Iris possibly be up to that had Cor sending a message like that? 

It wasn’t like Gladio could get back to Lestallum quickly. He was in the middle of nowhere on a daemon hunt, and that he even  _ got  _ the message in the first place was practically a miracle. In fact, before he walked another hundred feet, he lost his signal again, so he wasn’t even able to call Cor to find out what the hell was going on.

Cor would just have to deal. He was the Marshal; he could manage a 16-year-old girl.

* * *

Except when that girl was an Amicitia, apparently.

By the time Gladio had a signal again, he had four missed calls and three more texts, all from Cor. One simply said  _ when will you be back,  _ another said  _ Iris needs to understand we have rationing for a reason. _

The latest one said  _ You'd better tell Iris from me that if I catch her begging Ignis to sneak more spices for her out of the supply I will personally put a stop to those "clandestine" training sessions she's sneaking with Highwind. _

Gladio's eyebrows shot up. 

It wasn't that Cor knew about the training (if Gladio had figured it out, sure as hell Cor had too)... it was that Iris would try to circumvent the rationing. She  _ knew _ how important it would be, to make it through the long night. No one knew when Noctis would return and bring the dawn, and they needed to ration carefully while they figured out how to cultivate food with the limited light left to them. It wasn't like her to try to get around it -- not without a reason. 

He dialed Cor and hoped he'd have enough signal for a conversation.

Cor answered right away. "Gladio," he said, sounding relieved.

“What’s going on?” Gladio asked. 

“I don’t know what your sister is up to,” Cor said, “but she keeps asking for things we can’t give her and she won’t let up when she’s told no.”

Gladio chuckled. “Sounds like Iris, all right,” he said. 

“How far out are you?” 

“I should be back in town within the next day or two,” he answered. “Wanted to be in town for Winter Solstice and Shivatide. Think you can hold ‘er off until then?” 

“I’ll do my best, but you know it’s not going to be good enough. Call her and tell her to knock it off.”

“What’s she asking for?” 

“Cinnamon and nutmeg.” 

Gladio blinked. “That all?”

“Well, no, but those are the things she’s trying to get that aren’t part of the rations. We’re trying to hold on to luxury goods like that, especially when we’re not sure how long we’ll need them to last.”

Gladio breathed out a long sigh. That spices like cinnamon and nutmeg should be considered luxury items…

Then he froze. 

Cinnamon. Nutmeg. Winter Solstice and Shivatide. 

Gladio felt a bittersweet pang of guilt.

“I think I know what she’s up to,” he said, and cleared his throat when his voice sounded froggy. “I’ll get there as quick as I can.”

* * *

“As quick as he could” turned out to be two days later, and Winter Solstice was quickly approaching. The higher elevations of Cleigne were draped in a dusting of snow already -- though it had yet to reach Lestallum, which held onto its summer heat, despite the darkness. Gladio made it into town without too much fanfare, and set about looking for his sister.

He heard her before he saw her.

“... I don’t care  _ what _ I have to do, I  _ need  _ some!” she was saying to some poor soul. 

The poor soul turned out to be Ignis. “My apologies, Iris, but I have run out my personal stores already, and I’m not about to invade the community reserves -- not even for you. The rules are in place for a reason.”

Iris made a noise of frustration that Gladio knew well -- he could even see the accompanying expression in his head, with the clenched fists and the puffed-out cheeks. She hadn’t changed much since she was a child. 

Well, it was time to put a stop to this.

“Hey!” He barked as soon as he rounded the corner. 

He had the satisfaction of seeing her jump, and she turned to him, eyes wide. “Gladdy!” Next thing he knew, she had barreled into him, ignoring his shocked “oof!” as she wrapped her arms around his middle. “I thought you’d be gone for days more!”

“Nah,” he said, ruffling her hair; “had to come back to take care of some urgent business with Cor.” 

She batted his hands away. “What kind of business?” 

“Turns out he’s trying to handle pests getting into the stores and needed my help.” 

He grinned at her sharp intake of breath and worried face. “Pests got into--?” Then she narrowed her eyes. “He  _ told _ you.”

Ignis smiled and adjusted his visor with a gloved finger. “If you have this well in hand, Gladio, I’ll take my leave… I have some pressing business regarding the electrical lines to Old Lestallum to attend to.”

“Good to see you too, Iggy,” Gladio laughed. “We'll catch up later.”

“Of course,” Ignis said, and headed off.

Gladio turned to face Iris.

Face her  _ ire,  _ anyway. She was ready for a fight, hands on hips and pouty lip and all. “Whoa,” Gladio said, hands up. “Hold on there, I haven’t even said anything.”

“You don’t need to,” she said. “I don’t care what Cor told you, I  _ need _ those spices, okay?” 

“Yeah, I know,” Gladio said gently. “And I’m gonna help you get them.”

Iris blinked. “What?”

Gladio raised his eyebrows at her. “I’m gonna help you.” 

Her cheeks flushed, and her lip quivered, and she flung herself at him again and gave him a tight squeeze. 

He patted her back. Then froze when he realized she was weeping into his chest. He rubbed her shoulders and sighed. “How come you didn’t just tell Cor why you needed them?” he asked.

“I couldn’t,” she wept. “He wouldn’t  _ get _ it.”

“I think you’d be surprised,” he said. “Cor may not look like a softie, but he’s got a bleeding heart. Just look at how he treats Prompto.”

Iris snorted a laugh.

“What about Ignis? Did you tell him?”

“...No,” she murmured, her nose still buried in his chest.

Gladio snorted this time. “You’ll have better luck with  _ him _ than with  _ Cor,”  _ he said. 

Iris pulled away and squinted up at him skeptically, her eyes still red and wet.

“Trust me,” Gladio said. “I’ll talk to him. You’ll see.”

Iris sniffed. “You’re not just teasing me, are you?” 

Gladio shook his head and chuckled quietly, thinking back to an unwanted but much needed conversation he’d had once with Ignis. “No way. I wouldn’t tease about this. You wait here.” 

He left Iris then, and headed off after Ignis. He didn’t wait to see if Iris followed; it didn’t really matter whether she did or not. He kind of hoped she did, actually, so she could see that her older brother really  _ could  _ talk about his feelings now and then… when it was important. 

He couldn’t always tell when it was important, and sometimes he needed sense knocked into him… but this was important  _ enough. _ He’d pull through, for Iris.

* * *

“Gladio,” Ignis said when Gladio caught up with him, just outside his apartment. 

“Yo,” he said, not bothering to wave, since Ignis wouldn’t see it. “Got a minute?”

Ignis canted his head -- a substitute he’d developed for his classic side-eye, which no longer quite worked, with his pale, sightless eyes hidden behind his visor. “Has this anything to do with Iris’s requests?” Ignis asked, his tone accusatory.

“... Maybe.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow.  _ That _ was still really effective.

“Okay, okay,” Gladio said, raising his hands. “Yeah, it does, actually. Can we chat about it a sec?”

Ignis was still for a few heartbeats, but then he smiled. “Anything for a good friend.” 

Gladio sighed with relief while Ignis pulled out his keys, unlocked the apartment door, and pushed it open. 

Inside was more like a glorified closet. It had enough room for a cot, a desk, and a small kitchenette -- a mini fridge, a sink, and just enough counter space for a hotplate and a cutting board. Gladio had been here before and still wondered how Ignis was taking to cooking, now that he was blind. But he wasn’t about to ask. 

Ignis took a seat on the cot, and gestured to the desk chair. It creaked when Gladio sat in it, and squeaked when he swiveled it to face Ignis. Not the best chair, then, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, the way the world was now.

“Iris told you what she was after, right?” he asked.

“Mmm,” Ignis said with a sharp nod. “From the ingredients she’s looking for, I’d guess it was for some sort of holiday fare.”

“Yeah,” Gladio said quietly. “You could say that.” He sighed and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Look, ah… take this for what it’s worth, alright? This… this is our first Shivatide without Dad, and… there’s this family tradition, right? Dad would make a spice cake with a little clay figure of Shiva inside it, and the one who got the figure would have a good year. Family recipe, passed down for generations, right? I’m pretty sure Iris made sure to pack the old family recipe book when she had to evacuate; she’s the kind to think about things like that.” 

“Mmm,” Ignis said, with a nod.

“Anyway, I… I guess she’s got it in her head that we need that spice cake for Shivatide,” Gladio continued. “So I know it’s not on our rations, but is there any way for us to get, like, just enough for a cake?”

Ignis listened in silence, his face softening. "I can see how much this would mean to both of you." 

“What? No,” Gladio protested. “It's for Iris. Really.” 

“Of course,” Ignis said, and smiled. “I take it you’d rather not explain your reasons to Cor…?” 

Gladio snorted. “Didn't think it would be fair," he said bitterly. "It's not like we're the only ones here who’ve lost family.” 

“Naturally,” Ignis said. “We all have. But I think all of us would like a reason to celebrate a holiday, too.” 

Gladio huffed softly. “You ain’t wrong,” he murmured.

Ignis pushed his visor up with a finger. “Well then,” he said decisively. “Where shall we begin?”

Gladio straightened. “You’ll help?”

“Of course,” Ignis said. “That was a given all along. I would have been inclined to help Iris from the beginning, had I known what she was truly after.”

Gladio couldn’t help a chuckle. “I think she wanted to keep it on the down-low,” he said. 

“I can see why she might, though it's completely unnecessary,” Ignis said. “Everyone would understand. Besides... far be it from me to stand in the way of an aspiring baker.” 

They both laughed. 

* * *

Gladio returned to the apartment he shared with Iris, Ignis in tow. 

Their space was a little larger than Ignis’s, but only because two people were sharing it. Their kitchen space was about the same -- typical for a space hastily remodeled into cramped living quarters, with all the refugees coming in. 

When they entered, Iris was just standing up from her cot. She’d been crying more, Gladio could see; her eyes were puffy, and she blinked at Ignis with skepticism. Gladio did his best to keep the smile off his face.

“Iris, I have a delivery for you,” Ignis said, and handed her a couple paper pouches. 

She accepted them, and opened the flap of one to peer inside. Her head snapped right back up. “Wait,” she said. “This is cinnamon…!” She peeked in the other. “And that’s… But I thought you said--” 

“I said there were  _ rules, _ ” Ignis interjected. “And I assure you, I followed them. But there’s a condition.” He turned back to the door.

Cor stood there.

Iris clutched the precious packets to her chest, as though Cor would come take them away from her. But a corner of Cor’s mouth turned up in a half-smile. “If you’re making the Amicitia spice cake, there’d better be a slice for me,” he said.

Iris smiled, and blinked tears away.

* * *

For her first try, Iris’s attempt at spice cake turned out okay. It didn’t hurt that she had Ignis to give her pointers. 

Like Gladio had suspected, she’d stowed the collection of family recipes in her bag when she'd fled Insomnia. Alas, she hadn’t managed to save their Shiva figure, and they didn't have the time or materials to craft one that they'd know was foodsafe, so they let that part of the tradition slide. When it was done, they gathered their friends to share it: Monica and Dustin, Talcot and Cor, Ignis -- and Prompto, who made it back in town just in time to shower away the daemon muck before he arrived at their door.

There wasn’t a lot of room at Gladio and Iris’s apartment, so Cor offered up his office instead. Ignis managed to conjure up a bottle of sherry, and they gathered around a folding table Cor set up in the center of the room. Iris got the honor of slicing up the cake, and Prompto passed them out to everyone while Gladio poured drinks. (He cracked open a precious bottle of grape juice for the underaged, and he didn’t give in, even when Iris  _ begged  _ to try something more adult. “It’s a holiday,” she whined. “And you’re still a teenager,” Gladio answered, and firmly handed her a cup of juice.)

Once everyone had a cup in hand, Cor tapped the table with his fork. “To Clarus,” he said, and raised his cup. “Our first Shivatide without you… and you’re sorely missed.”

“To Clarus,” everyone else echoed -- except Gladio; he had to swallow against the sudden lump in his throat -- and there was a chorus of chinks as they tapped their cups together. 

Then everyone dug into their cake. Gladio hurriedly shoved a huge forkfull into his mouth -- and as soon as the fluff hit his tongue, an explosion of memory hit him with the spices. He was back in the Amicitia manor, gathered around the table with his parents and Jared -- not Iris yet; he was too young -- searching his slice of cake to see if he could find the pearly blue Shiva figure; the guarantee that his year would be full of good luck. He closed his eyes and savored the memory, the look on his father’s face when he proudly held up the tiny clay figure in triumph. 

When he opened his eyes again, Iris was looking at him, earnest hope splashed across her face. 

Gladio managed a smile, and he was pretty sure it didn’t wobble too much. “You did good,” he said, and pulled her into a hug. “Happy Shivatide, kiddo.” 

Iris squeezed him back. “Thanks, Gladdy,” she said. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“You know it,” he laughed. They’d all lost so much, but at least they had this.


End file.
